Blackout
''INTRODUCTION: '''Taking place in a yet unspecified year, '''Blackout is the first episode in the Fairy Tail: Brothers at Arms that features the main protagonist, Roland, and his mysterious weapon known as Durandal. Waking with no memories of his own, he's now slowly wandering Fiore in hopes of finding out who he is and why he wields the mighty weapon. He is completetly unaware that something else is hunting him down and will stop at nothing until he's captured and Durandal is there's. '' Part One: Waking Up A voice, faint and far, echoed in the darkness. Its words were unintelligible. The world around him was complete black, cold and silent. Save for that voice that he couldn't make out. Ever few moments it would say the same incoherent sentence. Words seemed to blend into one another as if separate voices fought for dominance. Slowly, the words began to take form, shaping into a single statement. He still couldn't understand what it was saying, but now the words were getting louder, as if something was getting closer to him. The words rushed towards him from the nothingness all around him, the sounds coming into focus until it was a single shout in his ear: Get up. Salt water shot up into his nose, stinging his nostrils, as he came to choking and spluttering as it filled his lungs. He flung himself upward while the force of the wave pulling back into the ocean knocked him on his back. His arms flailed and he threw his legs under himself, planting his feet in the soft sand and rose from the water. He stumbled towards the beach and another wave hit the back of his knees, causing them to buckle, and he fell face first into the wet sand. His vision was blurry and he used his hands to crawl out of the water before falling to his side and gasping for air. He coughed loud and hard, forcing the sea water from his lungs and throat, and out his mouth. It took a few moments for him to regain his normal breathing and he rolled onto his back, his eyes closed as the world seemed too bright around him. Sand stuck to the side of his face like a fine dusting. His arms were sprawled out to his sides and the waves licked the bottom of his heels. He could hear the ocean underneath him, the waves creating their rolling music as they crashed around him. He raised his left hand to wipe the sand from his face but was shocked to feel metal sliding across his skin. He immediately raised himself and stared at warped black metal covering his hand and examined the rest of his arm as it beared the same substance. Red wiring peaked through the seams and joints and seemed to funnel towards a single yellow circle located directly on his palm. At first, he closed and opened his fingers, and then moved his wrist and elbow. Surprisingly, the armor moved with ease and felt nearly weightless but when he tried to pry it off his arm, he found that it would not budge. The armor seemed grafted his skin and any increased effort to remove it was met with seering pain, as if he were trying to peel off his own skin. After his attempts proved futile, he merely stared at his arm and for a moment he saw some sort of red light pulse through the red wiring. "What the hell?" He finally spoke. His voice seemed raspy, most likely from choking before. After scanning his arm, he looked over his torso and legs for any other signs of armor but only saw the black leather that mainly consisted of his outfit. He brought himself to his feet, wobbling slightly before straightening out, and continued looking at his clothes. His body language suggested that he did not know how he got into these clothes, nor did he understand why someone would appear in such a manner. His black vest seemed normal enough and even the black leather pants, but his right leg was covered in silver armor (he was relieved to see that it wasn't attached like the one on his arm) and his left leg was wrapped in red belt straps. His boots appeared thick and encased in similar silver metal. And soaked from the seawater, his entire outfit felt heavy. After taking a mental inventory of what he was wearing and where he was (a quick look and he could identify that he was on a beach somewhere, palm trees lining along the edge of the sand leading into some hills behind them), he soon realized that he didn't know anything else. Not his name, his age, where he was or how he got there. Any attempts to push his mind to form a memory was met with a headache that caused him to momentarily relent. When he looked towards the sand, there were no tracks that he could use to retrace his steps. But when he looked further down the beach, something large and metallic stuck out from the sand. Something drew his to it and he soon found himself directly in front of it. It was a large blade, black and silver, piercing the sand like a javelin. Hesitantly, he raised his hand towards, reaching out towards the red handle. Take it. The whisper was so sudden that he turned around to face its source only to find nothing. Roland. The whisper caused him to spin on heels. When he saw that he was alone again, something drew his eyes to his armored appendige as if he were going to hear the voice coming from it. But the longer he stared, the more absurd it seemed. Then his eyes drifted back towards the blade in the sand. His hand floated towards the handle without thinking and he gripped the red handle. There was a strange comfort in holding the weapon, as if it were a part of him. He slowly pulled the blade from the sand and held it up high. The sun gleamed off the cool silver edge and shined with a brightness that could signal ships passing by. Quickly, he brought it down in one smooth slashing motion and held it in a defensive stance. It was as if this blade belonged to him. Feels good. He wasn't sure if that was his own thoughts or the whisper again, but one for certain was that this weapon was made for him. He pulled off some the belt straps wrapping around his leg and fashioned a rudimentary sling across his back. He slid the blade across his back. It was clunky but it would have to do. He scanned his surroundings and saw a small path beginning where the forest met the sand. Seeing no other options, he walked over and onto the path. The path was simply tall grass pressed down flat, creating an artificial path among the trees, and he journeyed through the brush. The forest all looked the same to him with no distinguishing landmarks that he could use for navigation. Instead, he simply walked towards the opposite direction of the beach he was laying on. The sun shined bright and hot above him, and only the leaves from the trees offered protection from its rays. He walked what seem like forever, trying desperately to recall some sort of memory. But everytime he thought he had something, a piercing headache jolted his temples. He had to give up once the pain had become unbareable. The voice never returned. Part Two: A New World Finally, he saw a break in the trees. The grass turned to dirt, extending into a thin trail stretching as far as his eyes could see. He knew it was a road, but now it was a question of which way he would follow it. He stood directly in the middle of it and stared down one way, turning around and staring down the other. There was no particular feeling from either direction. Without thinking, he put one foot in front of the other and made his way. He stayed to edge of the rood, under the shade of the trees and peered behind him every so often to see if anyone was coming. As he walked, something laid on the road a few meters in front of him. It was a strange shaped mass covered in some sort of canvas blanket. The closer he got, he could see a pair of shoes jutting out from underneath it and a red stain on the other side. Leave it alone. Something in the back of his mind was sending him a warning, but his curious mind proved too much for him to listen. He walked slowly towards it. It seemed like the shape of a person. "Hey..." He paused to hear a response. "Hey." He said again before finally walking over. He bent down with one hand slowly reaching out to the man on the floor. Then he felt a sudden jolt, like something warning him, and reacted just in time to avoid an spinning axe aimed for his head. It flew past him and stuck deep into the tree to his side. Then the man rolled and revealed a small pistol in his hand pointed to directly at him. Idiot, I told you to leave it alone. The voice in his head spoke clearly this time. Roland, why don't you listen? He wasn't sure if Roland was his name but something about it sounded right. "Too bad that axe missed you. At least that would've been quick." A group of men walked out of the bushes and into the road, six in total, each one holding some sort of handheld weapon. The largest of the group, clearly the leader, walked directly to Roland as the others circled around him. "Now, you're going to see how we kill you." He pulled another axe from his belt. They appeared like bandits with the clothes they wore. He pointed the axe at Roland, shaking it in his face. "After we're done with you, even your mom won't be able to identify your body." The voice again: We're wasting this guy. Before Roland could say a word, a boot struck him on the side of his head and his sword was pulled from the sling across his back. Surprisingly, the blow didn't break the skin, or even did much damage at all. It felt more like a push versus an actual strike. Quickly Roland adjusted his sights to scan the men around him. He instantly began determining distances from him and one another, his mind projecting a multitude of potential scenarios of him striking each one down with a single blow before any of them could react. The amount of information his mind was processing flowed through him quickly while the rest of world seemed to move in slow motion. Roland's heart began to race, fear building within him as he watched the vultures circling around him. The leader raised his axe over his head, preparing to deal a lethal blow. Then time seemed to slow around him, growing silent until the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. It thumped loudly in his chest. Roland could easily scan the leader's entire body, from his dirty and ragged clothing, his square jaw with a single scar crossing over his grinning lips. His eyes were brown, but one appeared a lighter shade then the other. His heart began to slow. Almost systematically timed with each beat, Roland took in bits of information from all around him. The leader was missing his eyebrows, instead his skull shaped them like little ledges over his eyes. With the green mowhawk, the rest of his head was bald and his oily skin shined. Another beat. Then Roland shifted his eyes towards the two men directly behind them, each sporting a wooden club. One tapped one end on the palm of his hand while the other rested it on his shoulder. They were also grinning, enjoying the possible sight of blood that would soon follow. Another beat. From the corners of his eyes, Roland could see two more to his right, one of them being the one with the pistol from earlier. Another beat. The remaining bandit stood to his left without a weapon. With everything being so sudden he hadn't even thought to draw his sword when they first appeared before they took it from him. Complete idiot. The voice came back once again but offered no other words. Once the axe reached its apex, sun gleamed off the edge. It held there briefly before the leader began the motion to strike Roland directly on the top of his head. Roland remained motionless, watching the axe as it slowly came towards him. His heart resting in a casual rhytmic beat, the fear subsiding. His eyes on the leader, then the bandit with the pistol. His head was formulating a plan in the span of a single second. Roland didn't know how or why he was thinking this way. His body and mind acting almost instinctually. Before the edge could make any contact, Roland was already in mid roll to his left. The axe passed harmlessly, shocking all those around him and Roland kicked his armored leg up and under the edge of the blade, causing the weapon to fling back into the leader's head and strike him in the middle of his forehead with the blunt side. Blood poured from the wound and he reeled back covering it with his hands. The others' momentary shock afforded Roland enough time for what would come next. His roll led him to the feet of the one with the pistol and he gripped him by the wrist before the gunslinger could react. Spinning with him, he caused the bandit to point the weapon towards one of the club wielders behind the leader and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the gut in the process. He fell to the floor clutching his bloody belly, writhing in pain. Roland then spun in the other direction, stripped the bandit of his gun and sent the bandit over his shoulder, coming down on the other who pulled Roland's sword from his back. He then charged the other club wielding bandit and before he could react, Roland planted his boot into his stomach and sent him falling backwards towards the brush. That left two bandits standing: the one with Roland's sword who had just pushed the gunslinger off of himself and the original unarmed man. Roland felt surprisingly calm as the sword flew at him. He merely ducked and dodged, letting the bandit tire himself out. The swings were wild and possessed too much wasted motion. He tried to come down on Roland with a single vertical swing and found the sword firmly planted in the ground when it missed. Roland stepped on the back of the blade and through a kick with the other leg, firmly connecting to the bandit's head and causing him to spin in the air before hitting the ground. Now all that was left was the unarmed man who shook in his boots at the strength of Roland. "Seems like you're all that's left." Roland said flatly and walked towards the quivering bandit. "Today just isn't your d..." Roland was suddenly struck by a series of images in his mind that paralyzed him in mid sentence. They rushed through his mind in no particular order and their speed made it impossible to discern anything. He managed to identify one particular image of a man clad in white. The voice shouted. Roland, pay attention. But it was too late. By the time the pain subsided, the bandits had all piled on top of him, pinning him to the floor under their weight. The leader lurched over with his axe in hand, blood trickling down the center of his face. Anger clear across his face. The one with the belly wound was rolling on the floor, screaming in pain. "Will you shut up!" The leader screamed before he struck the wounded bandit down to silence him forever. The others appeared shocked at the leader's action as he pulled the axe free from the dead bandit's neck. "Now as for you." He pointed the bloody weapon at Roland who struggled under the bandits. "I'm going to take great pleasure in skinning you alive." There was a certain insanity to his words. Let me take over, Roland. The voice urged Roland and he could feel something taking over his body. Not like the way his mind had devised a strategy to take out the bandits. This time his body felt like it was being possessed. You're gonna die, you idiot. Let me take control. The voice now spoke with both irritation and a sense of urgency. His arm burned with seering pain. He could feel the heat pouring through his veins like lava. Roland muttered, "No." The leader leaned in. "Oh what's that? You don't want to die?" He asked sarcastically. You want to die? The voice's words seemed heavier now. "No." Roland was now more stern as he tried to fight off the combined weight of the bandits on him. "Quit your groveling and die like a man." The leader reeled back with his axe. Worthless piece of shit. This is how you want to go out? The voice was screaming in his head. The leader began chuckling at Roland's futile attempt to free himself. Roland. "No." More chuckling as the leader readied his axe. Roland. "No." The bandits breathing down his neck as they presented his head. "No." Memories overwhelmed him as they did before. The pain in his arm was intense. A feint red glow emitting from between the plates of armor. The bandit directly on top of it noticed. "Dude, it just me or is this guy getting hot?" "Shut up and hold him down!" The leader ordered. "No." Roland continued with his resistance. The arm burning hot with steam coming off it. The bandit holding the arm was now sweating. The image of a man in white. The voice in his hand hounding him. The pressure of everything on top of him, both physically and mentally. "No." Flashes again. "No." The leader just about to swing down towards the back of Roland's neck. "NO!" He roared with such ferocity that it took the leader by surprise. Roland immediately threw himself up, launching all 4 men into the air as he still roared like a man possessed. His eyes were wide, mouth open exposing his teeth like an animal. His arms were spread out as he bent backwards, seemingly screaming towards the sky. The leader staggered back at Roland's sudden transformation. Roland quickly set his sights on him and the leader trembled from his gaze. Roland launched like a predator hunting prey. His armored hand wrapped its claw around the bandit's head and clenched tightly so that it drew blood. He could hear the mumbles of the leader screaming as Roland lifted him off his feet with inhuman strength. Save him for last. Roland tossed his body to the side and shifted to the other members as they struggled to their feet. Before they could regain their balance, one of the bandits was slashed across the chest with Roland's claws. Blood spurted into the air like a fine red mist and he fell to the floor in a dead heap. Teeth bared and growling, Roland attacked another dropping him to the floor and came down on the bandit's head with a mighty stomp, crushing his face with his boot. The others were now in a panic, unable to shake the fear in their eyes as their mouths hung open. They quickly turned to run and one stumbled to the floor. There, Roland's claw dug into his shoulder and he was flung through the air with such velocity that he collided with a nearby tree and snapped backwards unnaturally. A blood stain imprinted on the light wooden bark. Even with his armor, Roland caught up with another and leaped on his back, taking him down in an instant. The other continued running and heard the snap of his comrade's neck behind him. Roland looked up at the runner and then to his sword impaled in the dirt nearby. Where do you think you're going? The lone surviving member was gasping for air as he ran as fast as he could. Terror over him as he could feel his entire body shake. For a brief moment he thought he would make it out alive only to be struck down and sword piercing through his chest from behind. Roland had thrown the weapon like a javelin with deadly precision and killed the last remaining bandit. He watched him fall forward to his knees and the sword stopped him from dropping completely. His arms dangled as they blade propped him up, blood trailing down the steel. His blood was boiling and the heat was so intense that Roland could see small flames erupting from his palm. He clenched his fists but the flames escaped through seams between his fingers. Roland's arm trembled as he fought back the power trying to escape. Let me loose. The voice demanded. Then he heard the bandit leader grunting as he lifted himself out of a bush. Majority of his head was covered in blood and tripped over an exposed root as he walked out of the brush. Instictively, Roland pointed his fist towards him. The leader wiped the blood from his eyes only to see the horror of his fallen group. His eyes shifted back to Roland and watched as flames shot out of the warrior's fist. Roland wore an intimidating expression with narrow eyes as the energy built up around his fist. "Wait, wait, mister." The leader held his hands up, palms facing Roland. "You don't got to do this." He pleaded. "Quit your groveling and die like a man." Roland spoke in a deeper voice than previously, repeating what leader had said to him earlier. Finally. The air seemed to pull in all around Roland, causing it to distort like a bending mirror. His fist grew a bright red as the fire roared like a blast furnace. The leader quickly turned and bolted towards the trees in a final desperate attempt to escape. As the energy reached its climax Roland spoke one last time. "All creation ends in ruin." And with that he opened his fist and a stream of red flames shot out from his palm. Black smoke swirling the burning mass and the force shook the trees nearby. The stream instantly incinerated the bandit, his screams of pain ending in a flash, and engulfed the area in flames, setting trees ablaze and scorching the earth black. The stream cut a deep path through the forests ending in one final explosion off in the distance. Its deep red color painted a similar hue all around him and Roland simply held his hand in place. He felt a weight lifted off of him and things started to clear in his mind. Majority of his memories were still gone to him but there was one name he could recall and immediately looked at his arm. "Durandal?" He asked it. Yes, Roland. That is my name. '' Summary Fights & Events *'Roland awakens with no memories''' *'Roland vs Bandits' *'Roland discovers the name to his armored arm: Durandal' Magics, Spells and Abilities Used *'Magics:' **'Hellfire' (ヘルピー, Herupi) (Unnamed) *'Spells:' **'Ruin' (破滅, Hametsu) (Unnamed)